


Your Kiss Is On My List

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Captain Marvel (Marvel)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:04:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, you're number one on my freebie list. You're number one on <em>everyone's</em> freebie list."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Kiss Is On My List

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sundancekid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundancekid/gifts).



> Thanks to Snacky for looking it over!

Carol finds him in the kitchen, fiddling with the coffee grinder, so he doesn't hear her come in.

"Hey, Steve," she says when the grinding stops and silence is ringing in her ears, and she smiles when he jumps in surprise.

He tugs at the hem of his shirt in a way that makes him look like a naughty kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, which is as adorable as it is unexpected. "Hi, Carol. How are you?" 

"That's what I like about you," she says. "You actually care about my answer."

"You know I do." He empties the ground coffee into the filter and presses some buttons on the machine. "Coffee?"

"No thanks."

He turns and leans against the counter, arms folded over his chest, as the coffeemaker starts burbling. "You know, you didn't actually answer the question."

"What? Oh, I'm fine, but I need a favor."

He raises his eyebrows and hums encouragingly.

"I'm getting an achievement award from The Ninety-Nines," she says.

His smile is immediate, broad, and bright. "Carol, that's great."

"And the gala is tonight. Black tie. Reception starts at seven." She smiles back. "I hope your tux is cleaned and pressed."

He blinks, clearly a little surprised at the turn in the conversation. "What about Jess?"

"She's in Reykjavik with Thor and Bruce. It didn't seem important enough to call her back for this and I thought we could hang out. It's been a while." She pauses, then, "Unless you have plans with Sharon?"

Steve shakes his head and turns away, concentrating on switching out the coffee pot for his mug without making a mess. "We're having a mutually agreed upon break."

"Mutually agreed upon, huh?" She forces herself not to make air quotes when she says it.

He maneuvers the coffee pot back under the steady drip of coffee, not a drop spilled. "She asked for a break and I agreed."

"Ouch."

He shrugs a shoulder. "Better to give someone space when they need it. She's put up with my waffling often enough."

Carol moves around the counter and presses a kiss to his cheek. "You're a good man, Cap."

He shrugs again. "So I'm told." He takes a sip of coffee. "So seven tonight?"

"Yeah."

He nods. "I'll be ready."

*

She waits for him in the foyer, grins and shoots her cuffs in response to the surprised look on his face when he sees _her_ tux. 

He mirrors the gesture, and smiles sheepishly. "You look great."

"So do you." She tries not to fidget, but can't help tucking her hair behind her ear. She probably should have put it up, but it seemed like too much work without Jess and Janet around to help. "Let's take your bike," she says. When he hesitates, she adds, "Don't worry, it's not going to ruin your hair."

He snorts. "It's not _my_ hair I'm worried about. But if you end up with helmet head, I do a mean French braid."

"You're a man of hidden talents, Captain." 

"I didn't think they were actually hidden," he says wryly and she laughs. "Let's go." He holds his arm out and she takes it, and suddenly it's less like some weird prom fantasy she'd had in high school and more like her and Steve going out for dinner, even if they're both dressed to the nines. 

*

"This is much less bad than I was expecting," Carol says, leaning her chin on Steve's shoulder--her heels make them the same height--and tracking the waiter with the tray of steak tips on garlic toast as he makes his way through the crowd towards them. She gets a little distracted by how nice Steve smells, soap and hair gel (enough that the helmet didn't do too much damage, but not enough to make him look like Pat Riley) and some light cologne she can't identify.

His voice startles her out of her reverie. "A ringing endorsement." 

She huffs a small laugh. "You know what I mean. As long as they keep the hors d'oeurves coming and the speeches short, it'll be okay. I always think it's going to be worse than it is."

He nods. "The way I figure it, most of these people feel exactly the same way. They want to have a couple of drinks and a halfway decent dinner, and as long as the speeches don't delay dessert, everybody goes home happy." 

She tilts her head and studies his profile carefully. "Huh."

"I've lost track of how many of these things I've had to attend over the years."

"I knew you'd be the perfect date. I should have thought of this sooner."

He presses his cheek to hers for a moment. His skin is warm and just a little rough, stubble already starting to come in again. But it's his words that make her chest feel tight, even though she knows he'd say the same to any of his friends. "For you, Carol, any time."

*

Carol manages to accept her award without stumbling on the steps to the stage or otherwise embarrassing herself, and she has no qualms about leaving at the earliest acceptable moment after that.

She slips her shoes off once they're back in the tower, and lets them dangle from her fingers as they relive the dessert course. "It was like a Viennese hour," she says. "I haven't seen a dessert spread like that since my cousin Marilyn got married."

"The cannoli _were_ good. And the tricolor flag cookies. I love those."

"You would," she says, laughing and bumping his shoulder with hers. "But you're right. The pastry chef should get an award."

They're at her door before she knows it, and maybe it's the pastry or the wine, or maybe it's just Steve being _Steve_ , but instead of giving him a peck on the cheek and saying good night, she curls her fingers into the lapels of his jacket and kisses him.

For a long, awkward moment, he doesn't kiss back, but then his lips open with a sigh and she licks her way into his mouth. He tastes of cannoli cream and marzipan, sweetness and heat, and then he's pulling away, shock clear on his face.

"Carol? What about Jess?"

She feels her face heat. "You know she and I are--You know we see other people sometimes, right?" He nods. "Well, I thought, I mean, it seemed like a good time to," she makes a vague gesture, "see if that would fly."

"If this is because of what I told you about Sharon--"

Carol shakes her head. "No. I mean, yes, because it means you're currently single, but it's not pity or anything." She slides her hand up to curve around the nape of his neck and presses her forehead to his. "You know, you're also number one on my freebie list. You're number one on _everyone's_ freebie list."

That makes him laugh, a little puff of air against her lips. "Oh." She's about to walk it back, make a joke, or maybe explain the whole concept, but then his hand slides down over her hip. "Did you know _you're_ on _my_ freebie list?" And then he kisses her, his mouth hot and demanding over hers. 

This time when they separate, she's the one who's surprised. " _You_ have a list?"

"Of course. I'm not as much of a square as you all think I am."

She presses her face into the crook of his neck to muffle her laughter. "Oh, honey, you really are, but that's why we love you." She looks up when she feels him sigh in resignation. "Will you tell me who else is on it?"

"Maybe." He gives her a sly little grin. "If we move this conversation out of the hallway."

"Why, Steve, are you inviting yourself into my room?"

He laughs again and slides his hand further down, to cup her ass and squeeze. "What if I am?"

"I'm not complaining." She opens the door and tugs him into the room and then kicks the door shut behind him. "Tell," she demands as she undoes his bowtie.

"Bucky, of course, and Natasha."

"Of course," she murmurs, though she'd never have expected there to be any _of course_ about it, though maybe she should have. She guides him backwards towards her bed with the untied ends of his tie. 

"Janet and Namor."

That startles a shout of laughter out of her. "Namor? Really?"

"Yes, but he thinks he's number one."

"He would." She pulls Steve's shirt out of his trousers so she can slide her hands up underneath. His skin is warm and supple and she enjoys the way his muscles jump under her fingers. "Let's not talk about Namor anymore, though, okay?"

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am." That makes her laugh again, breathlessly, and sets a wave of wet heat off between her thighs. 

As good as Steve is at giving orders in the field, she discovers he's amazing at taking them in bed. She slides up towards the headboard, and he follows, undoing his cufflinks so he can shrug out of his jacket and shirt. She does the same, tossing them onto the armchair next to the bed. Her bra follows, and then his mouth is on her tits, hot, wet, suction that makes her arch up into him, knees falling open easily to let him in between.

She gets her hands on his zipper and manages to get it open without hurting him, and curls her hand around the hot, hard length of his cock. He gasps into her mouth when she thumbs the head, and she wants to laugh, giddy with need and pleasure. 

"Hold on," he says, voice rough and breathless. "You need to be wearing less pants."

"Less pants? Really?"

"No pants would be preferable," he says, fumbling with the buttons on her trousers. 

"Yeah, I can see that it would." 

He finally gets her fly open and she lifts her hips so he can tug them, and her underwear off. She pushes him over onto his back so she can take her time exploring his body--the perfect pecs, the chiseled abs, the sharp jut of his hipbones--with her hands and her mouth. She licks at the precome beading at the tip of his cock, swirls her tongue around the head, enjoying the half-strangled curses he's muttering to urge her on.

He pulls her back up into a deep, wet, messy kiss, one hand tangling in her hair, the other sliding between her legs, fingers flicking over her clit before pushing into her cunt. She thrusts into his hand, feeling the first delicate flutters of orgasm beginning, building to that breathless aching moment that feels like flying and falling.

He eases her onto her back and murmurs, "Rubbers?"

"Top drawer," she answers. 

And then he's pushing into her, slow and hard, letting her feel every inch of him. She tilts her hips up, wraps her legs around him, and grins. 

He sets a steady pace, fucks her hard and deep, pleasure building inside her again, hot and aching and sweet. She comes again, this time with a low moan that he swallows with a kiss, and then he loses it himself, murmuring her name as he comes, hips jerking hard against her.

They cling together for a few long moments, and he whispers nonsense about how beautiful she is into her ear, and she enjoys the press of his weight on her for a little while, like gravity holding her in place.

Then he gets up and gets rid of the condom, and she squirms around to get under the covers, languid and pleased. He hesitates at the edge of the bed, but she flaps the covers at him, so he crawls in beside her. 

"You okay?"

"Mmm," she answers, curling up into him. She's not used to having someone so much bigger than she is in bed anymore, and she remembers now that she likes it. He drapes an arm over her hip and drops a kiss on the top of her head. "Definitely number one on the list," she murmurs around a yawn. He laughs softly and that's the last thing she remembers before she falls asleep.


End file.
